


he's flyin' by the seat of his pants

by Anonymous



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - Purge, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Gen, One Shot, Road Trips, area 51, is it platonic? even i don't know, no violence just a lot of f-bombs, yes it's /that/ fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This year The Purge fell on the 1st of May, and if it wasn’t the sign to storm Area 51, Shayne Topp didn’t know what was. After years of hoping and planning to do that, the only thing that he was still was missing was a partner in this hell of a ride.





	he's flyin' by the seat of his pants

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so first things first: this started as an idea in my head before this whole meme started. I wanna say that Shyane has said that he'd like an Area 51 date on SWNN or something, or maybe I just imagined it, because, let's be real, he'd really do that. And when the meme started, I was, like, shit, I legally HAVE to write and here we are now, few months later. And yes, it's Shartney, shocker, I KNOW. I really intended it to be platonic when I started it, but if you know anything about my writing, you know I thrive in that is-it-platonic-or-is-it something-more gray zone, so here you have it. And yes, it has lame references to old-ass songs. And yes, the title is a Hamilton lyric because why the hell not.

This year The Purge fell on the 1st of May, and if it wasn’t the sign to storm Area 51, Shayne Topp didn’t know what was. Ever since The Purge has been announced, it was his intention, but he didn’t want to be underprepared, so he hung tight to form the plan, and this year it was finally time to do it. He just needed a partner.

The obvious choice was Noah Grossman, one of his best friends and colleagues at their comedy group, who knew and believed in almost every conspiracy theory there was. But he recently got in a relationship, and his girlfriend wasn’t too thrilled about the idea. Moreover, Keith was in town that week, which meant that Noah wouldn’t be checking his phone. Keith was his best friend and even the distance that grew when Noah moved to LA was not able to stop the friendship between those two.

Joshua, or as he called him, Joven, the friend he made on his first night out on a college campus, wouldn’t even want to hear about it.

“Shayne, that place is haunted, I can fucking tell,” he snapped. “Sure, if you stay alive and bring something back, I’ll read it, if you want it, I’ll even leak it. Just don’t ask me to go there with you. I can’t risk it,” he shook his head. Shayne still wasn’t convinced that he’d actually been possessed or haunted by some supernatural being, but he only argued about it once. Sufficient to say that he learned his lesson and now had to keep his tongue bitten. Nevertheless, he appreciated the gesture. Sure, the plan was to get at least one piece of evidence of shady proceedings there, but it was more than unlikely. The only thing that made him more confident was the awareness that he could spread the truth. Joven was a computer science major, worked at a prestigious IT company and was a damn good hacker. He didn’t do it that often, not that Shayne knew of anyway, but what he had seen was enough to convince Shayne of his skills.

Wesley Johnson, the guy who owned a shooting range he frequented to let off some steam, was also more than happy to help, but not in the way he had hoped.

“I don’t believe in that stuff, if the government is hiding anything, they have more than enough reasons to do so,” he shrugged it off. “But I can help you with the firearms, so you can defend yourself, at the very least.” And Shayne appreciated and used his help, too. But then again, that was not what he was asking for.

It was already April when his options were running dry. No, he couldn’t put it off for another year in hopes that some of his friends would be up for it and inevitably, be disappointed again. He was doing it alone, even if it scared him shitless.

“Shayne, are you okay?” he saw Courtney, his roommate, jump out her bedroom door after he slammed the front door shut. Their apartment wasn’t that well-built, so he wouldn’t be surprised that some of the wall paint cracked or something. He felt sorry, but that didn’t relieve his frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, taking his shoes off. Taking Damien to the airport for his trip to Germany that he had planned for probably longer than Shayne had his Purge plan, was the last nail in his coffin, making realize that everything was falling apart even before taking off to Nevada. Usually whatever his frustration was would be settled by a few-hour drive, just like the one he had to take home back from LAX, but this was no ordinary frustration. For fuck’s sake, he has been planning this for years, he should be allowed to feel pissed. Yet, he pretended to be okay, not wanting to give off his negative energy to Courtney, who, if he recalled correctly, was on a tight deadline anyway. Shayne’s anger was the last thing she needed now.

“You sure?” she lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms. Of course, she didn’t believe him. He didn’t even believe him himself. He sighed.

“Just frustrated, is all,” he tried shrugging it off and convincing her with a smile, although he was sure Court wouldn’t let it slide. “Don’t you have an article to submit?” he enquired. Maybe he mixed up the days, after all.

“Yeah, I’m just proof-reading. Actually, I need a pair of fresh eyes,” she grinned, letting her arms fall to her sides. “We’ll talk about you as soon as we’re finished, though.”

Shayne didn’t know what she was talking about. Her story seemed to be typo-free, as she used a fairly advanced app for that stuff, probably courtesy of the paper she was working for, her sentences made sense. Yet, he squinted at the screen, trying to find something that was wrong so he could delay the talk further. He didn’t even want to talk about it anymore (not that he wanted to do it in the first place), as he felt weirdly relaxed staring to the article, already forgetting what it was actually about. Oops, hopefully she won’t ask him what he thought about it.

“Nope, can’t find anything else,” he finally gave up after scouring the article up and down five times for any sort of mistake, letting out a short laugh, lifting up his arms and stretching them.

“You mind making me some tea while I finish? You can make it in this cup,” she handed him a cup that sat beside her laptop, urging him to stand up from her seat. “Please,” she smiled as he stood up and grabbed the cup. Looking at it, he could tell it was a little stained from the previous tea, but when she asked for such a small favor, he couldn’t say no, could he. 

“S-sure,” he didn’t mind doing something so little for Courtney, as she often helped him, too, often after some gym sessions when his muscles were clearly not cooperating, but her urging him to leave her alone was a little unexpected. Maybe he wasted too much time and now she had to run against the clock, he had no idea as he lost the sense of time. Nor he knew what time the deadline was.

“You’re finished already?” he asked, as she stepped into the kitchen, as the pot was still boiling, and he was scooping a spoonful of honey into her cup, still unsure if he was hungry himself or not.

“Yeah, it doesn’t take that long. You were just sitting there for  _ way _ too long and I was tired of standing like that,” she explained and giggled, coming closer. “You’re not hungry? I thought you’d be after that drive,” she bopped her head sideways, biting her lip. He didn’t get a chance to see her this happy that often: she got the job just a few months ago and since Shayne performed at comedy clubs in the evenings, he rarely saw her stressed out about the deadlines which were due a little after he would usually leave the apartment. He could tell she enjoyed her job, though, especially when her assignments were finished. And that in turn, made him happy for his friend, too.

“I’m not sure yet. I got something from the vending machine at the airport,” Shayne shrugged.

“I won’t force you, but I think it would be for the better if you at least had a bite from yesterday’s leftovers.”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, pouring boiling water over the teabag and went to look at whatever they still had at the fridge.

“So, what’s bothering you?”

“Oh, you know. The Purge thing. I mentioned it to you, right?”

“Yeah, maybe once or twice,” she chuckled, taking a seat and hugging her cup with both hands. It was somewhat chilly for April in LA, but it was probably better than the summers he had to endure in Arizona and Virginia, so he didn’t feel comfortable complaining.

“How much did I tell you about it, though?” he asked, having thrown the leftovers into the microwave. He couldn’t remember; he talked about The Purge so much it’s actually surprising that he’s not on the Most Wanted list yet.

“Oh, I don’t really know. Just that you wanted to break into Area 51 for years now,” she shrugged and slurped her tea, audibly. He could tell it was still a little too hot.

“Well, that’s true. I just don’t want to do it alone and whomever I ask is either busy or straight up refuses,” he explained concisely. “What are your plans anyway?”

“Just sitting home under the locked doors, I guess,” she wasn’t alone in that. Once The Purge rules have been modified and it’s been here for a while now, people opted to sit it out or commit only small, petty crimes - knick a pack of chewing gum from the store, speed down the highway and the like. Only a handful of people have been planning such heists as Shayne for years, most of them already disillusioned. It was almost like Halloween nowadays, people throw a party and indulge in a couple of sins instead of committing a serious crime. The fact that he never heard of Area 51 leak since then both excited and scared him to death. But he was determined to do it, even if it killed him. He even wrote a fucking will.

“Would you like to join me, then? You could really help, you’re strong, agile-”

“What about you tell me your plan and I think about it, before you get all excited, huh?”

“Sure,” he nodded, and timely, like in a movie, the microwave dinged, announcing that Shayne’s meal was ready.

Once he finished telling his plan, he broke off the eye contact for a short while, glancing at the table before initiating it again, eager to gauge what Courtney’s reaction was. She didn’t seem very phazed, but then again, her face was only illuminated by a street light through a window as he took a while to lay down his plan.

“Let me sleep on it,” she said after a while. She probably hesitated, wondering if that was all he had to say, but her words sounded confident.  _ Let me sleep on it _ , as if he wasn’t running out of time as it was already.

She caught on his annoyance, he didn’t need to say anything.

“It’s not like you’re convincing anyone else today at this time of night,” she said, tactfully. God, she really knew him  _ that  _ well.

“You’re right,” he sighed in defeat.

“You bet your pretty ass I am,” she grinned. “Now, go get some sleep, I know you’re tired.”

“Okay, mom,” he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle standing up and heading up to his bedroom.

They said their goodnights a few times as they crossed their paths getting ready for bed.

“Sweet dreams, Topp,” she said with that charming smile of hers before heading to her room for real this time, already changed into her crop-top-and-shorts pajama combo, hair loosely tied up with a band, face clear with no remnants of makeup.

“You too, Miller.” 

Courtney was right, he was tired. Yet, he was surprised to be the second one to wake up the next morning: Shayne was definitely the one to wake up earlier out of the two usually. Look, they have lived together for years now, and he could count the instances when Courtney was up earlier than him, and that’s  _ including  _ all the times he’d been hungover after a boys’ night out.

“God, what time is it?” he asked, entering the common area of the apartment, still trying to get the discharge out of his eyes. Courtney seemed to be up for a while now, already changed, with make-up on, no mess in the kitchen area.

“Almost two, sleepy head. Did you stay up last night?” she enquired, leaning in her chair, curiously.

“Nah, I swear I was dead all night,” he mumbled, a little irritated by the lack of caffeine he would have usually ingested at this point.

“Not for the first time, my dude,” she laughed, watching him putting the coffee pot on and reaching for a cup.

“Will you ever let me forget that story or are you going to bring that up every day of my life?” he groaned. As if having drowned by itself wasn’t traumatizing enough.

“You know that’s precisely why I’m in your life, right?”

“And at this point I wish you weren’t.”

“You’re lucky I know your bank account would be maxed out if it weren’t for me-” that much was true too. Sure, he was living his dream of being a comedian, but he still wouldn't be able to afford a place of his own. And he had to admit, he kinda lucked out on Courtney, he couldn't chime in when his friends complained about their roommates.

“Arghhhh Courtney, shut up already,” he let out a slight scream. Nothing too unusual, he was sure she was used to this. Yet, even if that were the case, he felt bad, even if it wasn’t crossing the boundaries of their usual banter. “Just let me have some coffee first,” he calmed himself down and pleaded apologetically.

“Well, I hope you’ll be glad to know I want to purge Area 51 with you,” she said after a pause, letting a word after another cautiously as Shayne started gulping his coffee.

She saw his face lit up. She hoped that was more due to the coffee but she wouldn’t bet on that.

“Not so quick. On one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” he asked, quickly.

“I kinda promised I would write an article about it. Nothing too major, it could be just about the journey to the Area 51 itself-”

“Yes, yes, it’s okay. As long as I have someone to come with,” he assured, a little breathless still. He thought it was something more serious. Granted, he hadn’t had a chance to think about it yet, but it couldn’t be bad, could it?

“That’s what I hoped. The paper wants at least a few of the writers prepared to write for The Purge in case something goes wrong-”

“Nothing will go wrong, Court. Trust me,” he put his hand on hers reassuringly. And she smiled. It was the reassurance she needed, Shayne thought. Hell, he needed it too, he was scared shitless himself, but it was too late now, and it sure as hell wasn't anything he could actually promise.

And it did go wrong. He should have known, he should have worked himself out till he would pass out, because now it was the night before and he couldn’t even close his eyes shut. Groaning, but not too loudly, so Courtney doesn’t wake up, he knew he’d be even more frustrated in the morning and that frustrated him further and further. God, he should have seen it coming.

“I could drive,” Courtney suggested in the morning, packing their meals she’d prepared the evening before into brown paper bags. Almost as American as the goddamn Fourth of July.

“No, it's my plan, I should drive,” he protested and she gave in, somewhat.

“Drink up some coffee, and start, but once you do  _ one  _ stupid thing behind the wheel, you’re pulling over and sleeping on the backseat,” that was more than fair, so Shayne just had to agree to these terms.

Courtney had previously insisted she’d choose the music, and Shayne honestly couldn’t complain. It was a mix of contemporary hits and all-time classics, with some long-forgotten one-hit wonders sprinkled here and there.  _ How do you even remember this one _ , he would chuckle. He’d know the words to it, but there was no chance in hell he would even have such things in his playlist - mostly because he just wouldn’t remember the artist or the band to even search for it properly. 

The weather was perfect for driving a convertible - his late uncle’s that he inherited, the same one that was such a pain in the ass to drive back to California, but at the end of the day, it was perfect for his - no -  _ their _ mission. He worried he’d be cold or raining, as they left quite early - in hindsight, he worried too much as their route was mainly crossing Californian and Nevadan deserts. But if you plan something for literal years, you were bound to overthink and worry about absolutely everything.

“Okay, darling, time for you to have a nap,” Courtney proclaimed once they reached the Mojave, although Shayne was dealing with driving surprisingly well, with only short pitstops to fill up the tank, buy a coffee or an energy drink and pee at the gas station. He wanted to protest again, but he was getting tired despite the caffeine and god-knows-what-else pulsing in his veins. Also he trusted Courtney as they still had to follow Interstate 15 for a few hundred miles.

“_Ice cold!_” she would answer to OutKast’s iconic _Hey Ya!_, quietly but enthusiastically when he opened his eyes a few hours later. He had never had a chance to sleep there on the backseat, but the muscle car was surprisingly wide and leather seating was seriously comfy - he shouldn’t have dreaded this nap after all. He liked Courtney’s quiet singing along, too, watching her blonde hair getting messed up in the wind that car made cruising down the highway, so he stayed put until the end of the song.

“You ever thought about pursuing singing?” he asked and chuckled when her shoulders jumped a little in surprise.

“Geez, did you sleep at all or just laid there like a damn creep?”

“Don’t worry, I slept well, just woke up actually,” he sat up and swept his hair back, feeling like he had a serious case of bedhead, but had literally no way to check that, at least not while in the backseat. “During this last song,” he clarified, having cleared his throat with a little cough.

“Good, I was worried that you got that good at imitating snoring. I know you’re not that good of an actor, Topp.”

“Well, you are that good of a singer, Miller. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“Well, thanks. I did do choir at the elementary school, but as I grew up, I couldn’t afford the trips out the state the choir was going to,” she shrugged, but Shayne could tell that she still had her grudges. He wasn’t going to push it, although he would usually tease her to no end about such things. He checked the GPS and the time in the corner of its screen - they’ve crossed the border. Actually they were near Vegas now - she was a faster driver than he anticipated.

“And what about radio? Ever thought about that? You have a fricking good taste, Miller.”

“Shit, you should sleep in this car more, you’d shower me with compliments more,” Courtney only now laughed. “I haven’t actually. But that’s not a bad idea, although it’s a bit of a dying medium,” she said a little more seriously.

“You could do internet radio or something. You know, both journalism and music, not that you don’t like your current job-”

“-that’s also a dying medium, I know,” she laughed bitterly. “I know, Shayne. You’re actually not that dumb sometimes,” she said with a smirk on her face. “Wanna see anything in Vegas?”

“No, just a restroom,” Shayne said and they both laughed.

Having changed into the fake officer uniform just on the other side of Vegas, Shayne was behind the wheel again, urging Courtney to sing along to the music. He knew she knew the lyrics, and her voice calmed him down immensely, he just didn’t want to admit it.  _ Eyes on the prize, Shayne, eyes on the prize.  _ And the prize was the final destination, the mysterious Area 51, at the end of this last stretch of the road.

“You want me to sing? Really?” Courtney was being a bit of an ass, really, teasing him and making him tense up in his shoulders, gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter between his fingers.

“Yes, really,” he tried to say it not this bitterly, but clearly, failed, as he really didn’t care, as long as he made it to Area 51 as soon as possible and Courtney complied.

She tinkered on her phone for a while skipping songs on the massive playlist, as the stereo barely kept up, playing one or two seconds on these tracks at most. It took a while for her to put her phone aside, and the music played even louder than before. She started bopping to the music and pulling off probably the whitest dance moves ever, and a few first lyrics for him to realize what the song was, and boy, was it something.

“ _ Sweat, baby, sweat  _ -”

“-Miller, you’re such a fucking duuuuuumbass!” He had to shout as the music along with Courtney’s singing and the wind in his ears were all too loud.

“You fucking love it Topp,” and she was right, he did. He just didn’t expect her to even know the damn song, let alone every word of it.

“What were you, minus one year old when this came out?”

“ _ I WANT YOU SMOTHERED, WANT YOU COVERED,  _ \- Like you even care, Topp!”

“You’re right, I really don’t!” he didn’t stop laughing until the song finished, even singing along with the damn chorus, and cheered her on to do it again. 

And then again, but Courtney refused the second time around:

“Topp, you’re gonna make me lose my goddamn voice,” she argued and he had to back off.

The GPS lost the signal when the end was near, but Shayne thought this was entirely possible, and having looked at the Google Maps of the area intensely for the past few years, he knew his way around. It still was a little surreal  _ actually  _ being there, driving there, but he was too focused and too nervous to get lost in such a thought.

“You alright?” Courtney asked, understandably concerned.

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry,” he mumbled back, driving the last few yards. “Wanna check if the walkie talkie works?”

“Sure,” she said, still a little wary of Shayne’s state and pulled out a walkie talkie, saying  _ one two testing testing _ , and the other walkie talkie on Shayne’s side echoed it back just a mere few milliseconds after.

“Sounds good to me. You’re ready?”

“Not really, but I don’t think I’ll ever truly be,” he said, putting an earpiece and connecting it to his walkie talkie once he turned off the engine.

They did a few more radio checks and they both stepped out of the vehicle.

“Wish me luck, Miller,” he said.

“Good luck, Topp,” she replied, giving him an unexpected, but appreciated hug, during which he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her for a second, before she settled in the driver’s seat. “See you on the other side,” she saluted him and for a second there, he was afraid it was the last time he’d see her.

“Name?” the officer at the door asked him and Shayne panicked.

“Uhh, Topp. Robert,” he answered and only realized that he had made an awful mistake, as even his fake uniform has his fake name on it. Thankfully, the dude looked at his list, instead of him, so he just kind of… sucker punched him right in the noggin.

Dumb decision. Probably the dumbest decision of his dumbass life so far.

But…

He got  _ in _ .

The damn.

Area fifty-fucking-one.

It took him maybe an hour, maybe a little less to gather around a few documents in a beige folder that caught his eye, when he decided it was enough.

“Miller, you ready? Over,” he asked quietly into his earpiece, as he held onto a button on his walkie talkie to talk.

“Bitch, you know I am. Over.”

“Be there in five. Over.”

And five minutes it took for him to get back to the exit, as he sprinted out of the building, not even sure if the guard was still down or not, documents gripped in his hand so tightly, that he thought his vein would just burst open.

“Start the damn car, Miller!” he shouted still a few yards away from the car, as Courney complied.

He jumped into his seat as if it was a fucking Tom Cruise movie.

“Just drive, drive,  _ drive _ !”

“Where to?” It was ridiculous, planning out how to get there for years and not thinking of an escape plan. He just didn't think it was possible, he was ready to just die right then and there.

“Just as far away as you can!”

And she did as Shayne was still struggling to catch his damn breath.

They stopped in Vegas, tired as all hell. They barely got a motel room with a skimpy double bed, as the staff of fancier hotels were still kinda afraid of the people trying to get a room on the fucking Purge day, which was fair enough.

Once they got in the room, Shayne plugged in his phone to charge and stayed glued to the line to phone someone.

“Joven, you won’t fucking believe what I saw,” he grinned.


End file.
